My mother had a midlife crisis and bought a cello
My father had a midlife crisis and fucked a coworker
It’s a milestone, you know
It’s coming.
Death, however, does not send a Save the Date,
So what about when a parent dies?
When a parent dies you give something up.
Ready or not
You bury it with them
When my grandfather died, Dad buried drinking
He fell in with the sober crowd
In the church’s fluorescent meeting room.
When my mother’s dad died
Mom cremated giving a shit
She stormed out of work when she felt like it,
Tenure be damned,
To have a margarita and chips
At the Mexican spot down the road.
Whatever you’re carrying now
Know that it might be taken away
By someone else’s end
Author Bio:
Cora Taylor is a native Cincinnatian, camping enthusiast, and lover of free verse. She has no formal education in poetry, but many of her favorite poets didn't, either (some of her favorite poets, to be fair, are long-dead unpublished relatives). Cora finds inspiration in the glimmer in her dog's eye, and the way rosebushes have to be deadheaded in order to reach their height of beauty. She first began writing poetry as a coping mechanism as a bullied, anxious child, and she believes that poetry can be both a balm and a brand: one writes poetry to shout, but reads poetry to be soothed. Her favorite poems are those that sound like her grandmother's laugh, and those that make her mother roll her eyes. She hopes that her poems, for the reader, are like catching a glimpse of oneself in the mirror at a crowded bar, and feeling less alone.
My father had a midlife crisis and fucked a coworker
It’s a milestone, you know
It’s coming.
Death, however, does not send a Save the Date,
So what about when a parent dies?
When a parent dies you give something up.
Ready or not
You bury it with them
When my grandfather died, Dad buried drinking
He fell in with the sober crowd
In the church’s fluorescent meeting room.
When my mother’s dad died
Mom cremated giving a shit
She stormed out of work when she felt like it,
Tenure be damned,
To have a margarita and chips
At the Mexican spot down the road.
Whatever you’re carrying now
Know that it might be taken away
By someone else’s end
Author Bio:
Cora Taylor is a native Cincinnatian, camping enthusiast, and lover of free verse. She has no formal education in poetry, but many of her favorite poets didn't, either (some of her favorite poets, to be fair, are long-dead unpublished relatives). Cora finds inspiration in the glimmer in her dog's eye, and the way rosebushes have to be deadheaded in order to reach their height of beauty. She first began writing poetry as a coping mechanism as a bullied, anxious child, and she believes that poetry can be both a balm and a brand: one writes poetry to shout, but reads poetry to be soothed. Her favorite poems are those that sound like her grandmother's laugh, and those that make her mother roll her eyes. She hopes that her poems, for the reader, are like catching a glimpse of oneself in the mirror at a crowded bar, and feeling less alone.
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